No Place Like Home
by Bookworm Gal
Summary: 2002 Version. Orko came to Eternia from his home on Trolla by accident and has been dealing with the native uncooperative magic ever since. It isn't easy sometimes, but he's accepted his new life. Those back home, however, have been worried and trying to find him since he vanished. And when they try to retrieve Orko, a couple of others are dragged along to the Trollan's old world.
1. Prologue

**So I was too young to really watch the original version of "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe" when it came out in the 80s (mostly because I wasn't born when it originally aired) and didn't really know much about it beyond the fact it existed (and the iconic "by the power of Grayskull" thing). And I once caught a glimpse of the live-action film as a kid, though it didn't really stick with me much beyond how a musical keyboard can be used to open a portal to a different dimension. But the closest I really came doing much with original version of the show was playing with my cousin's action figures in our games.**

 **But then the remake happened in about 2002 and I do remember that. I watched it afterschool for a while and I rather enjoyed it. The art style was impressive, the fight scenes were entertaining, the humor was fun, and the characters were enjoyable. And as always, I found myself latching onto the comic relief character. Some people might not like Orko or find him annoying, but I liked the little guy. And when I started learning more about his back story, I liked him even more.**

 **The thing is that, in the remake, we never got to see much about his home world or any other Trollans. They apparently showed some in the 80s version, but the 2002 version was canceled before they got the chance. So I thought I'd give it a whirl. You know, do some world-building and stuff.**

 **Will it be exactly like how it was portrayed in 80s cartoon? No (mostly because I never watched that version and thus I'm going off of Wikipedia and such for the older stuff). Will I take inspiration from things shown in the 80s version? Probably, but it'll still be different since this will be a 2002 version of Trolla and the other Trollans rather than the 80s versions.**

 **Okay, standard disclaimer time. I don't own Trolla, Orko, other Trollans, or their magic. I also don't own the show. I don't own He-Man, the Masters, the Universe, or the 1980s and the year 2002. I just came up with the story idea, a few minor characters, and so on.**

No Place Like Home

Sometimes he still dreamed of light green skies, coral and cerulean plants, crystals jutting out the ground like towers in the distance, rainbows that curved like a smile between the clouds, and trees that generally grew downwards rather than having branches striving to reach towards the sky. He dreamed of scaly creatures that flew through the air and feathery ones generally swimming in the rivers and distant seas. He dreamed of robes, hats, and properly-concealed faces.

He dreamed of magic that filled everyone and everything, magic that could easily be used by anyone. He dreamed of magic that _obeyed_ and didn't fight back, resisting every attempt to use it. He dreamed of magic that worked the way he spent his life learning.

But when he woke up, he was still where he was before. He was still in his chambers in the Royal Palace in the city of Eternos on Eternia. He was on the same world he'd spent the last several years.

And yes, he'd made a lot of friends since arriving. And he knew that helping them was important. There weren't a lot of magic users on this world and even small actions could have vital consequences. He'd learned that lesson already. He accepted Eternia as his home.

But that didn't stop him from dreaming. It didn't stop him from remember how things used to be. And it didn't stop him from missing his old home and what little family he'd left behind years ago.

* * *

He gave the constructed structure one final exam, starting from the bottom before hovering right above it. Each piece of the circle fit together perfectly. The materials were carefully chosen for their ability to conduct the power they would be sending into it. The looped shape should serve as the perfect door. He did everything in his abilities to ensure that this would work. He'd invested every spare moment for the last few years into a single goal and this was the fruition of all that work.

"We're almost ready to try activating the gate," Sallis said, floating a little closer to him. "We won't be able to keep it open for long and we'll undoubtedly have to keep adjusting the spells in the design, but I'm sure you're eager to run the first proper test."

He nodded and said, "Thank you. Tell the others that I'm ready to proceed. I'm sure it'll be a success."

Her eyes and the twitch beneath her scarf let him know that she was giving him a reassuring smile. She was always one of his more considerate apprentices. He'd taught many youngsters over his lifetime, both the basics of controlling magic and more advanced lessons. Some of his students moved on to other things or other teachers, especially those who chose to specialize in other careers or lacked the skill to become a full sorcerer. But he taught them enough to be useful and they remembered him fondly enough to come when called. Even he wasn't strong enough to open the gate alone, so he asked some of his old apprentices for one last favor.

"It'll work," she assured. "Considering how long you spent researching, designing, and working on this, I'm certain of it. We know how skilled you are. They wouldn't be offering you a position on the Crimson Council if you were just an ordinary sorcerer."

She floated down to where the others were moving to encircle the structure, informing the group they would move forward as planned. He was truly grateful for the help she and the other five were providing to his project. He'd called them from their various scattered lives and occupations, asking them to sacrifice untold amounts of time and energy in order to make the gate work. He was asking them to help activate something that was only theoretical and took almost three years for him to discover in ancient texts.

Sallis and Nador were the only ones who wore the red robes that declared their occupation as sorcerers, the gold trim on her sleeves for completing her apprenticeship barely in place a year. Vogon wore the green robes and the straw hat of one who dealt primarily with plants, his family growing the best octarines in the area. Kaloren used his magic for construction and spells to keep homes safe, his robes a practical brown shade and gold trim discolored in places from his work. Rolma specialized in healing magic, her robes a deep purple shade. Orlin used only the simplest magic in his life, his family wealthy enough that he did not have to do much more than oversee shipments of valuable materials from distant corners of the land. His colorful and elaborate robes did not declare his abilities with magic, but they did demonstrate his monetary station.

Each of them came from different places within the community. But each one was his apprentice for a time. And each one was powerful enough to help.

He needed their help with this last part, but he'd already completed the hardest part. There was the research to discover what he would need to do to find what he was searching for, further research revealing the ancient texts that discussed the theoretical possibility of this gate. Then he spent time designing and planning how to create such a portal. Enchanting, preparing, and positioning the stones in a location with the right levels of magic that was also far enough away from any homes to avoid accidents took even more time. He'd spent years working on each step of the project and now he just need the raw power to reach this final step.

He did worry sometimes that this was a fool's errand. He knew it had been years. It had been over eight years since that freak cosmic storm hit, throwing chaos throughout the community as it struck and tossed around so much before stealing away something precious. It had been years since that day. Anything could have happened since then and there was no way to predict where that freak cosmic storm connected. All he was able to determine was that it wasn't anywhere on this world. Was it somewhere safe? Was it somewhere hospitable? Or was it somewhere impossible to survive where the cold and lack of air would end things quickly? For all he knew, it could be too late to do any good. But hope sustained him for years and he would continue to hold to it until he had proof one way or another.

Each of them moved until they were at equal distances from each other as they encircled the structure and raised their wands in unison. They poured magic into the circle as they started the spell, the carefully-carved stones perfect for containing their power. The flecks of crystals embedded in the rock would hold and direct magic quite effectively, which was why crystals of different types were often involved in crafting magical tools. The dark-blue stones glowed dimly while the pieces of crystal glowed an intense shade of green as more magic poured in. The circle of standing stones already looked like an arch or a window, but soon it would be a door.

"Lost to us like ancient lore," they recited in unison, "bring him back through the door."

His former apprentices were providing power, but he was the one who was directing the spell. He knew how it should work. He'd crafted the twin spells that they were using. The first spell would locate the destination, locking onto the target somewhere in the universe. They couldn't simply search blindly after all. And when he felt a gentle pull that reached so far away, they moved on to the second spell that would activate the constructed portal.

"Let the distance start to unravel," they continued, "open the door for easy travel."

A swirling vortex began to form within the glowing stone circle. He could feel the magic fluctuate and strain, the portal unstable. That was to be expected for a first attempt of a new spell no one had truly attempted before. It would take refinement to perfect. But it was working. With the seven of them powering it together, the portal and his plan was working.

They were bringing his nephew home.

 **I know this first chapter turned out to be rather short, but this is a prologue. They're meant to be shorter. Other chapters should hopefully be longer. I have no idea of how many people will actually read this, but I hope at least someone out there will be interested in this story. There will some world-building and a villain who will eventually make their presence known. I have plans, even if updates might be slow. So if you're at all interested, feel free to leave a review. Writers thrive off of feedback.**


	2. Portal to Another World

**I've managed to throw together the next chapter relatively quickly, but don't expect the next update to be equally fast. And if some of the characters that only showed up in the 80s version don't act like they did in the 80s version of the show, that's all right. This is for the 2002 version and there are differences between the two, after all (and I never watched the 80s version). But hopefully you'll like this chapter and this story regardless.**

Prince Adam had experienced a lot of things recently that once seemed impossible. The Mystic Wall collapsed, allowing Skeletor and his forces to escape from where they were trapped for decades. He'd learned of the power hidden within the strange chamber deep within Castle Grayskull, power that Adam encountered first-hand on his sixteenth birthday. On that same day, he'd gained the ability to transform into the hero He-Man. And by accepting that power, he accepted the unmatched strength that let him fight evil while bearing a difficult secret that he could not share with those around him.

He was gradually growing used to strange and unusual events in his life. But sometimes the blond teenager appreciated a little normalcy. Even if the normalcy he sought would certainly be a little chaotic.

Adam hurried down the hallway at a steady pace while Cringer, his loyal and large green feline, followed closely. Even if Cringer wasn't the bravest companion in Eternia, he was certainly dependable and almost always nearby. Ever since Adam snuck out to the swamp on his own for some exploring and found a frightened kitten about eight years ago, he and Cringer were practically inseparable. Of course, the green feline wasn't the only friend he made that day in the swamp so many years ago.

He heard the pair before he saw them. The exasperated groan from Man-At-Arms' workshop confirmed for Adam that both of them were present. The teenager couldn't help smiling wryly. There were only two people in the entire Royal Palace who knew his secret. And the two people who knew about him being He-Man couldn't be more different if they tried. Sometimes that led to problems.

"For the last time, I don't need your help," said Man-At-Arms, his voice carrying quite easily. "I have this under control."

"Come on. I'll help you get done faster."

"Or break it worse," he said firmly. "Forget it, Orko."

Adam finally reached the doorway and spotted the arguing pair. Man-At-Arms seemed to be working on repairing something that looked more like random fragments of metal than anything useful. And Orko was hovering around him, peering over the man's shoulders or trying to simply get a better look at what was happening. Curiosity was a pretty strong motivator for him and even after years in the Royal Palace, Orko still seemed interested in learning about whatever technological projects he could spy on.

Man-At-Arms, like Adam and quite a few people within the city of Eternos, was human. He was also old enough to have fought beside King Randor back when he was merely a general and old enough to have a daughter around Adam's age, but still young enough to be a devastating force on the battlefield. He could wield just about any weapon he could lay his hands on. Adam had known and trusted the man his entire life.

While Adam wore comfortable clothes like a red vest over a white shirt with a pair of practical gloves, Man-at-Arms tended to wear his orange-and-green armor all the time. At the moment, the protective facial plate of his armor was down and thus the scowl on the mustached man's face was easy to spot. For all he liked the Sorceress, he tended to trust the reliability of technology over magic. Especially when it came to the reliability of _Orko's_ magic since it had a tendency to backfire on the man on a regular basis.

Orko looked different than anyone else on Eternia, completely unlike any of the other people who dwelled across the planet. He was small enough to be mistaken for a child, though he tended to float high enough off the ground to be at eye level with most people to discourage that type of mistake. He wore a red robe with gold embroidered along the sleeves, a pointy hat, a scarf where his mouth would probably be, and a gold medallion around his neck. The Trollan was one of a kind on this world and no one really knew for certain what one looked like. Other than his long blue ears and his four-fingered hands, he was mostly concealed by his robe, hat, scarf, and shadows that always clung around his face.

Honestly, there was a lot they didn't know about him even years later because he and his people weren't from Eternia. But ever since he saved Adam when the prince was young and cornered by those swamp-hoppers, he'd been one of his best friends. He was also currently the Court Jester and the closest thing they had to a Court Magician. Orko was a good and loyal friend. His magic just wasn't very reliable without his wand, a fact that still caused Adam some guilt years later.

"Come on, Man-At-Arms," said Adam, alerting the pair to his presence. "It's already a pile of machine parts. I'm not even sure what it is supposed to be anymore. Even if we purposefully tried to wreck it, it can't get much more broken. A little help won't hurt anything."

"Past experience argues otherwise," he muttered. Then in a louder voice, Man-At-Arms asked, "Aren't you supposed to be training with Teela?"

"Since this would be her third planned training session today, I thought avoiding her might be a better idea," he said, scratching behind Cringer's ears. "She's been complaining about me always disappearing during emergencies again and this is either her idea of punishment or she's hoping to tired me out enough that I can't run off next time."

Man-At-Arms and Orko winced and gave him a pair of sympathetic looks. Teela didn't understand that it wasn't fear or laziness that caused Adam to vanish when a threat appeared. She didn't know he would transform and face their enemies. Man-At-Arms, Orko, and the Sorceress were the only people who knew his secret. They were the only ones who realized that he vanished whenever He-Man was needed because he was entrusted with the power to do what was necessary. They understood that maintaining that secret so Skeletor and his forces would never learn He-Man's weaknesses meant that Adam must sacrifice his reputation and sometimes the respect of others. It was hard sometimes to live with it. There was a cost to doing the right thing and his friends knew it.

"I'll have a talk with her. Three training sessions before dinner is a bit excessive," said Man-At-Arms.

"Thanks. That's probably easier than trying to hide in the stable for the rest of my life."

"I'm sure she wouldn't chase after you for _that_ long," said Orko, moving a little closer. He then put a finger to where his chin would probably be under his scarf and said, "Though she does have a lot of endurance and can be pretty stubborn."

As Adam chuckled a little, the Trollan's head jerked around. His eyes narrowed in confusion, staring at nothing in particular. He stopped moving and just floated in place, staring blankly. The sheer distracted and distant expression on what little could be seen on his mostly-concealed face made the prince uneasy.

"Orko? Are you all right?" he asked.

Bright yellow eyes blinked rapidly before he shook his head and said, "I… I don't know. I felt something… familiar. And powerful."

"What?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe…"

Whatever he planned to say was interrupted when a crackling boom erupted and _something_ appeared in the workshop, sending Cringer running in terror. Adam could only describe it as a swirling storm of colors, wind, and chaos that appeared directly behind the red robed figure. Orko yelped in fear and surprise as he was yanked towards the strange phenomenon. Adam grabbed Orko's hand, trying to stop it and pull him back. But he could barely hold him as some force fought for possession of the Trollan.

"Orko, what did you do?" shouted Man-At-Arms, grabbing on and throwing his weight into bracing against the opposing force trying to drag the Trollan away.

"It wasn't me," he yelped back as Orko clung desperately to them. "But I think it _wants_ me."

He was clearly right, the swirling vortex pulling him straight towards the center while machinery on Man-At-Arms' workbench never even twitched. The powerful force had latched on Orko, drawing him in. It crackled and flickered like a lightning storm, but brighter and more colorful than Adam could imagine. It grew and shrank, warping and pulsing unpredictably. Wind whirled around them, making the sleeves of Orko's robes flap and Adam's hair wave wildly. He could barely hear anything over the noise of the wind and crackling. This wasn't natural; neither the vortex of chaos nor the way it pulled at Orko was normal. This was magic of some kind.

Even with Adam and Man-At-Arms throwing all their strength into trying to anchor him in place, Orko was still being dragged back. It was too strong, like fighting a whirlpool. Adam couldn't even risk changing into He-Man for extra strength because letting go for even a second would mean it would pull Orko in.

Any chance they had of holding back their friend vanished the instant Adam lost his footing, slipping on the smooth floor. As he tripped, he managed to keep his grip on Orko's hand. And that unfortunately meant he and Man-At-Arms were dragged along as the force yanked Orko right into the middle of the strange vortex.

A weird buzzing sensation swept over his entire body briefly as they were tossed through the strange vortex and landed roughly, knocking the wind out of Adam. The hard metal underneath him suggested he'd landed on Man-At-Arms and his armor. Mostly he just felt disoriented and confused. And when he opened his eyes, he caught a glimpse of grass. Blue grass.

The crackling boom rang out again and then silence fell. When Adam tried to raise his head, quiet voices began whispering to each other overhead.

"Well, the first attempt was bound to have some problems, but at least the portal remained active for a few moments," a male voice said.

"Unfortunately it was not only unstable, but we must have also made a mistake with the destination, Nador," said a female voice. "Why else would we end up with strange-looking giants who don't even bother to cover their faces? We'll need to fix the gate and send them back before we can try again."

Groaning tiredly and trying to push Adam off his chest, Man-At-Arms asked, "What happened? This isn't my workshop."

Rolling onto the blue grass, Adam looked up and wondered if he was seeing double. Then he realized there were actually multiple flying figures in robes. And they looked a lot like Orko. But he could also tell that none of them were his friend. In fact, the closest one in red wore square glasses and had a gray beard poking out from under his scarf.

Adam wasn't stupid. He knew _what_ they were even if he didn't know _who_ they were. And he was starting to figure out why the grass was blue and the sky seemed to be a light shade of green. They weren't on Eternia anymore.

Floating a little lower, the bearded Trollan said, "I'm terribly sorry about our portal bringing you from your world and we'll return you as soon as possible. It was an accident. I merely wished to find—"

"Uncle Montork!" shouted Orko, finally escaping from under Man-At-Arms and launching himself into the air.

* * *

He'd felt the high levels of magic when the vortex formed, something that didn't belong on Eternia. Magic wasn't as common in large amounts as back home. Other than a few locations such as the underground crystal-filled chamber of Castle Grayskull where He-Man originated from (a place that almost terrified him with how much power it contained), most of the magic in Eternia was contained in tools and artifacts crafted in the distant past. True magic users were few and often limited, like the Sorceress who could only wield her power within the castle. Others like Skeletor merely used magical objects to achieve his goal with no real ability to use magic himself. Orko knew what to expect by now concerning magic within Eternia, even if it refused to work properly for him. So the amount of power he felt when the vortex formed surprised and unnerved him.

But there were other reasons he feared the strange portal that pulled him. It reminded him too much of the strange cosmic storm that uprooted his life and stranded him somewhere new. He didn't want it to happen again, but not even Prince Adam and Man-At-Arms was enough to keep Orko from being pulled through. So for the second time in his life, he found him tumbling to a different world. The trip through the portal might have been brief, but it left him scared and confused. He didn't know what to expect or where he might land. But this time, he wasn't completely alone. This time he ended the journey squashed beneath his friends.

And then, while trying to pry himself out from underneath the twin weights of his friends, Orko heard a few voices. Knowing they weren't alone prompted him to try and hurry about escaping from where Man-At-Arms accidentally pinned him in place. Not to mention that having his face pushed into the ground wasn't very comfortable. But when he heard one familiar voice among the others, it hit him hard. Could it be real? He had to see now. Orko yanked himself free and practically flung himself into the air.

"Uncle Montork!" he shouted, hurtling himself at the startled Trollan.

The flying tackle hug nearly knocked them both to the ground before the older Trollan could compensate, but Orko barely noticed. It was his uncle. It was really his uncle. After so many years, he could finally see his only remaining family. He couldn't help laughing a little as he hugged his uncle, something he would have considered impossible that morning. He was certain that he would never see Montork or anyone else from Trolla ever again.

" _Orko_ , my boy," said Montork in clear relief. Then he broke off the hug and held him out at arm's length, looking over his nephew carefully. "Are you all right?"

"Me? I'm fine. Just a little confused. What happened?"

As he finally glanced around at his surroundings and saw the achingly familiar green tint to the sky, it began to hit him. This was Trolla. This was his uncle and he was on Trolla. Shock started to set in, leaving him stunned about the enormity of it all. He was actually back. It was real.

Orko asked quietly, "How did I end up on Trolla?"

"How? How do you think, my boy? We were trying to find you."

Still staring in shock at his uncle, the sky, the light blue grass, and the stone circle beside them, he repeated numbly, "Trying to... find me? Why?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Orko realized that the instant Montork's grip on his shoulders tightened and his gaze shifted into a glare. And just like when he was a child sneaking peeks into the more advanced spell books, he cringed with uneasy guilt at his uncle's anger. He definitely messed up.

"Did you really just ask me 'why'? Did you honestly believe that I would not look for you?" asked Montork with a strained voice. "That I would simply let random luck steal you away and I would forget about you? Did you think I would not care about losing my nephew?"

"…No," he said meekly.

"Eight years," said Montork. "You have been missing for eight years and there was no proof that you were even alive. But that never stopped me from searching for a way to bring my family home. So do not ask 'why' or even think that I don't care about you, my boy."

Dropping his gaze, Orko apologized quietly, "I'm sorry, Unc'. I didn't mean it like that. And I didn't mean to make you worry. I was just… stuck after that weird cosmic storm caught me."

"I know. I know. It's just good to have you back."

"Now that that's settled, perhaps you would like to introduce us, Orko?" suggested Adam, abruptly reminding him that he wasn't alone with his uncle.

Orko glanced around at the audience that witnessed their reunion, feeling mildly embarrassed about forgetting. In addition to the confused and bemused prince and uneasy Man-At-Arms, there seemed to be quite a few Trollans floating around. He spotted a healer and a craftsman. He also spotted a couple of fellow sorcerers among them. The gold trim on their sleeves demonstrated they were no longer apprentices and could perform most spells, but they lacked the gold medallions that declared true mastery. Very few reached that level of power, skill, and control, after all.

And none of these people were the kind he wanted to look particularly foolish in front of and he'd probably done just that. Maybe he could still salvage things.

"Right," Orko said, moving a little bit away from his uncle so he could address them properly. "Guys, this is my Uncle Montork. He raised me and taught me everything I know about magic."

He ignored the expression on Man-At-Arms' face. He didn't need the reminder of his magical misfires. If nothing else, his time on Eternia ensured Orko learned to be humble and how to deal with failure. He just hoped that no one else realized how much he'd spent the last few years struggling with apprentice-level spells. Because now it wouldn't be only himself that would be embarrassed. His magical blunders would reflect back on his uncle now. Hopefully Man-At-Arms and Adam wouldn't say anything about it in front of everyone.

"Uncle Montork," he continued, "these are my friends: Prince Adam and Man-At-Arms of Eternia."

"It is very nice to meet you, even if I didn't mean to steal the two of you from your world," said Montork. Turning back towards Orko, he said, "And these are a few of my other apprentices I've taught over the years. You might even remember a few of them, my boy. Nador, Orlin, Sallis, Vogon, Kaloren, and Rolma all agreed to help me."

"Oh. Well, thanks," he said.

"We were happy to help our old teacher find his nephew and favorite former apprentice," said the female sorceress, floating a little lower. Then she admitted, "I was also hoping to meet the magic prodigy we've all heard about: Orko the Great."

Part of him wanted to smile at the old nickname. He liked remembering the days when he was respected and people trusted his abilities. He liked the reminder of when he didn't mess up every other spell he tried.

But another part of him felt uncomfortable with how much like bragging it sounded now. He wasn't sure he could live up to that nickname anymore. He wasn't sure anyone could. And then there was how Man-At-Arms and Adam looked when they heard it.

"Orko _the Great_? A prodigy?" asked Man-At-Arms. "Are we talking about the same person?"

That hurt. He knew that the man hadn't been able to see Orko's abilities at their best, but did he have to sound so surprised? That much disbelief in his tone rather hurt. He might not feel like he deserved the nickname in recent times, but that was no reason to act like it was completely impossible to imagine. Just because he was the Court Jester, Eternia magic didn't work right, and his wand was long gone was no reason to think he was completely incompetent.

But he didn't say anything. Because that would only lead to Uncle Montork and his past apprentices hearing exactly how many times he'd messed up in the last eight years. And he didn't want that at the moment.

So trying to sound casual about it, Orko shrugged and said, "Yeah, she's right. They used to call me that. It's just been a while since anyone used that nickname. I'm just Orko now."

"Well, we've always been fond of 'just Orko'," said Adam.

Orko smiled beneath his scarf. Adam was the only one in Eternia who ever saw what he was capable of doing with his wand. In the short amount of time between his arrival and the swamp hopper swallowing his wand, he managed to pry the young prince out of the muck and away from the hungry predators. Even when he was annoyed by the effects of Orko's magical blunders, Adam at least seemed to realize that it wasn't his fault. It was nice having some support.

The other Trollans took the opportunity to gather together a little above the humans, voices lowered as they discussed something. Whatever they were busy with only took a few moments though. When they parted, Montork flew down in front of Adam and Man-At-Arms.

"Nador and Sallis have agreed to work on adjusting and stabilizing the portal. It might take a few days, but we should be able to return you to your world," said Montork. "Until then, you're welcome to stay at my home. It will be interesting to speak with someone from a different world than Trolla." Straightening his glasses briefly, he added, "Though I am likely to spend most of that time enjoying the return of my nephew. It is good to have him back."

While Orko rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, Man-At-Arms said, "We don't have many choices on what to do for the moment, but it does sound like the most pleasant option. Thank you for your hospitality."

* * *

Not that many Trollans investigated the sites of ancient battles and crumbling ruins in search for lost weapons.

Most barely remembered the fact that many generations ago, their people weren't nearly as peaceful and united as they were now. They used to forge weapons of magic and cruelty. They created spells of pain and death. They fought wars that left the battlefields scorched of life to the point it took centuries for anything to start growing again. Once upon a time, their sorcerers were deadly warriors and those less knowledgeable bowed to their power. And they certainly hoarded their knowledge and secrets so their enemies and minions did not gain an advantage. The greatest Trollans sorcerers were once a force to be reckoned with. They were a force to be feared.

But now they'd forgotten their heritage. Once the Crimson Council formed in order to repair the magical damage their wars caused to Trolla and started managing the world, Trollans became more peaceful and content. Ancient disputes were resolved. More and more of them were taught how to perform magic beyond basic levitation and flight. Wand crafting became more common. They gradually forgot what those bloodier and vicious days were like. Duels between sorcerers became more of a demonstration of skill than a battle to the death. Violence became small-scale and isolated incidents. Most Trollans didn't even consider the necessity of defending themselves against anything more dangerous than wild animals. While murder wasn't completely extinguished from their society, the wide-spread destruction they were truly capable of was beyond comprehension.

Honestly, only a few Trollans really paid attention to the more violent chapters of their history. The Crimson Council remembered because they didn't want the past to repeat. Historians who record and researched the past events of Trolla would learn about the nearly-forgotten wars. And sorcerers knew about the bloodier aspects of their history because some of the most powerful spells were created and developed for combat during the wars. But even those with the knowledge didn't consider the full implications of those wars. They never realized that there would be magical tools and weapons left behind from those ancient days, just waiting to be discovered.

Gorpo wasn't like them. That was why he was searching the ancient ruins from those days. With some research and patience, Gorpo learned where to look for the more impressive artifacts. Lost and hidden items could be found on forgotten battlefields and in crumbling ruins. And he intended to recover the best of them possible for his own use.

He'd found a few artifacts over the years. Mostly smaller ones, but a few with some real potential. Some he knew how to use immediately and others he needed to study first. He'd accidentally activated an item that turned out to be a trap against enemy sorcerers about eight years ago. That mistake could have turned out far worse for him, but it was apparently designed to target the most powerful magic user in the area. And while powerful, Gorpo wasn't the _strongest_ at that point in the past. So Gorpo avoided being consumed by the strange cosmic storm he unleashed and learned from the experience, taking care in the future to be more careful with his discoveries.

He and his magic were stronger now than years ago. And if he was right about what was buried within the crumbling structure deep within the dark forest, Gorpo might soon possess the ultimate prize.

Once this site was the home of the most powerful and vicious sorcerer on all of Trolla. He would wipe out entire armies alone, turning the tides of war with his very presence. Even those who forgot the wars remembered the stories of his power. Locating the ruins of his ancient home took a lot of research and studying. But it would be worth it.

The building was no more than a couple of short walls buried beneath teal moss to the point that he could barely recognize them as more than a few scattered rocks. And the tree branches stretched down, always trying to snag the sleeves of his robe. It would be so easy to pass the site and never notice what it once was. It was no wonder that it lay undisturbed for so long.

Gorpo pulled out his wand and muttered a quick spell under his breath. He spun the magic into a light source that hovered just above his right shoulder. The opening half-hidden by vines, he moved into the more-intact tunnels below.

Roots buried through the ceiling and walls. Shadows danced as he and his orb of light moved forward. The air felt cool and moist while occasionally he heard a drip of water in the distance. Spells to protect and conceal could endure for quite some time, but even the best would begin to fray after a few centuries with no upkeep. So the cracks in the walls that marked the door could be spotted without using magic and there were no traps when Gorpo used his own magic to open it.

Inside, the damage of the passing centuries seemed even clearer than in the tunnels. Spell books were water-logged and rotting away, covered in mold any possible protective enchantments they might've had were unable to prevent. The ground was covered in puddles and broken fragments from ancient containers. Sections of the ceiling had collapsed, half-burying the chamber. Gorpo spotted a metal box at the far end of the room. Floating a little closer, he brushed away the layers of dirt and grime from the box.

He read the writing on the ancient and discolored box. Gorpo then smiled. He was right. This was it. The spells locking the box were intact and that meant the contents were secure. It might take time to open it, but it was still _his_. Prospero's staff, the most powerful focus for magic ever crafted, now belonged to him.

Using the storage pocket spell woven into his hat, Gorpo slipped the box out of sight. He then gave the chamber one final quick search. Once he felt satisfied he hadn't missed anything important, he headed back out the way he came.

Soon a new era for Trolla would begin. An era of new leadership for them. An era where true power and might would rule supreme. An era where Gorpo controlled everything and anyone who resisted would be forced to learn their place.

Once he unlocked the staff, he would wield unstoppable magic beyond anyone's imagination. The other Trollans would learn their true heritage of violence and aggression by his demonstration. He would toss aside the Crimson Council and rule instead. Anyone who stood in his way would fall.

 **So there won't be a lot of He-Man in this story. Prince Adam, yes. But not a lot of He-Man. That's what happens when you're on a completely different planet from your power source.**

 **In case you didn't guess, Nador, Orlin, Sallis, Vogon, Kaloren, and Rolma are my creations and you're perfectly welcome to borrow them if you want to. Gorpo is also mostly my creation, but his name actually comes from the fact they originally intended to call Orko "Gorpo"in the cartoon. They eventually changed their mind and went with the familiar "Orko" for the character. So I borrowed that name for my antagonist.**

 **Also, Prospero's staff is a vague reference to Shakespeare's play, "The Tempest." If anyone figured that out, good for you. If you didn't, I don't blame you. It took me a while to learn the guy's name from that play.**

 **Remember, writers always enjoy reviews. And even if it might take me some time to update this story, I appreciate feedback. Thanks.**


	3. Different Types of Magic

**Wow, I got more reviews already for this story than I expected. Of course, that's a good thing. That means that people like the idea and story so far. Hopefully you'll continue to enjoy it. Expect lots of world-building ahead.**

They waited until the others left. It was only polite after his uncle asked all of them for favors. Orko, his uncle, and the two bemused Eternians waited patiently as the other Trollans gathered their belongings they'd brought and Nador and Sallis scribbled down a few final notes. Only after the others headed home did the remaining Trollans turn their attention to the important task of clean up. Uncle Montork was the head sorcerer in the working, so it was technically his responsibility to deal with the aftermath of such a major spell. But Orko was raised with proper manners and the spell _was_ meant to assist him (even if he didn't know they were doing it in the first place), so it would only be right to help.

For the most part, magic was spread everywhere on Trolla, flowing around and inhabiting every nook and cranny. There was so much and it was so accessible that it was easy to forget that there were certain sections where it moved even better than others. Everyone used it for at least small and basic spells. And even with everyone drawing on the abundant ambient magic, they could barely put a dent in the background power.

But major spells could "tangle" things, disrupting and redirecting the normal flow of magic. The main channels could be moved in the process. It wasn't even really a problem unless _everyone_ who performed major works of magic never fixed things afterwards. It would take a while to accumulate enough disruption, but it could eventually happen. The Crimson Council was partially created to reverse and protect the flow of magic on Trolla because at some point in history, people almost messed up to the point of choking out magic for the entire planet. So now whenever a sorcerer finished a large and powerful spell, they needed to take the time afterwards to "untangled" the flow of power back again.

Orko hadn't performed a large-scale magical working in years, so he hadn't needed to do clean up in an equally-long time. He didn't even know if it would work on Eternia or if it was even necessary. Magic was so different and less naturally abundant. There certainly didn't seem to be the equivalent of the Crimson Council to take care of the world's magic. Even the Sorceress only dealt with Castle Grayskull and the unnerving amount of power it hid.

Regardless of how long it had been, Orko responded the necessary chore out of habit. He absently reached out with his mind towards the sensation of disrupted, knotted, and slowed magical flow. Then with the mental equivalent of a sharp tug, he tried to straighten it.

And it responded. Perfectly. _Easily._

It took all his self-control not to gasp in surprise or laugh in delight. Or even cry a little in relief. He'd almost forgotten. Eight years of struggling to grasp, control, and use a foreign force that fought against him to the point it seemed like the magic of Eternia _hated_ him, Orko had almost forgotten what it felt like to manipulate more cooperative magic. It was easy. Impossibly easy. As easy and natural as breathing.

It hadn't completely sunk in before that he was truly back on Trolla. Not completely. But now Orko began to realize he was really back and all that it implied.

 _Again_. He needed to do it again. He needed to do something else. He muttered a quick spell, a simple one most Trollans picked up eventually for convenience, and all the dirt and pieces of grass on his robes from the rough landing slid off. This time Orko didn't bother hiding his happy laugh as the dust cloud fell away.

That was so easy. He didn't even need to focus or try. The magic responded to his tiniest direction. _This_. This was how it was meant to be. This was how magic was supposed to work.

He'd _missed_ this so much. You really don't appreciate what you have until it is gone and he'd never appreciated the wonderful feeling of having access to magic that _works_. But he certainly appreciated it now.

"All right, my boy," said Uncle Montork. "No need to show off right now. Next time you feel like cleaning up, use a wand like the rest of the world."

Orko ducked his head a little, arms tucked behind his back. Right. He still needed to tell his uncle a few important things. He couldn't put this off forever. At least there was a smaller audience now. And his friends already knew about this part, so they shouldn't see this as a bad reflection on his uncle and teacher. It was an accident and bad luck, not incompetence.

"Well, here's the thing, Unc'. About using my wand? I… can't. It isn't here."

He blinked in surprise before shrugging the situation off and saying, I guess that's my fault for pulling you home so abruptly. I didn't really give you time to pack, though you should always keep your wand close. A sorcerer is only as good as—"

"No, Uncle Montork," he interrupted, his shoulders hunching slightly in anticipation for the coming reaction. "I lost it. Before today."

That made the older Trollan pause. He floated a little closer to his nephew, eyeing him curiously through his glasses. It really didn't help Orko's nervousness.

"About _when_ did you lose our wand?"

"Oh, not _that_ long ago," Orko said, trying to insert a rather innocent smile into his voice. "It happened only… eight years ago?"

"What?"

"It was an accident," he explained quickly. "I was still all jumbled up by the cosmic storm and there was all those vines and a child with a green kitten, which are a little like fuzzy and bigger reenaks with longer tails, and there were hungry creatures after them and a tree and I bumped into something and I lost my grip and a swamp hopper ate my wand."

"Montork," said Adam, his voice a lot more steady compared to Orko's frantic stream of words. "Your nephew saved me as a child the day he arrived on Eternia and lost his wand in the process. I shouldn't have been out there alone that day. So it is _my_ fault that he lost his wand years ago."

While he did briefly glance towards the prince during his much clearer explanation, Uncle Montork's focus remained mostly on his nephew. Orko realized he'd been spoiled the last few years. He'd grown used to judging emotional states on a lot of Eternians by their facial expressions. His skills at determining expressions beneath a scarf or veil were rusty. At least when it came to the subtler ones. He couldn't guess what his uncle was thinking or feeling at the moment.

"And there was no way to obtain a replacement in that world?" asked Uncle Montork finally.

Orko shook his head and said, "Not really. There weren't really a lot of general focus tools. Some objects have spells or are limited tools for specific uses, but nothing like our wands, staffs, and such. Trust me. I really wanted to find something to replace my wand over the years."

He saw some looks of confusion from Adam and Man-At-Arms. They might need to finally give them a proper lesson on magic. Or at least Trollan magic. Otherwise they were going to keep getting confused every single time the two sorcerers spoke together.

"So you've spent the last eight years working magic without a focus? I don't know whether I should pity you for going through that or impressed. That must have improved your personal control greatly."

"I wouldn't say that," muttered Man-At-Arms.

Well, some of his discomfort about explaining the last eight years to his uncle was gone. Instead, Orko felt some frustration. He _knew_ his mistakes caused problems. He _knew_ that Man-At-Arms unfortunately received more than his fair share of the fallout of his blunders. But that didn't mean he liked hearing about it. He'd like to see how Man-At-Arms would have done in the same circumstances.

But his remark did bring up a point that Orko would have to address. Uncle Montork was already glancing at the man with a rather confused look in his eyes, not sure whether to defend his nephew from snide comments or ask what he meant. Orko knew he needed to finish his explanations. He needed to tell him about his years of magical mishaps.

"It was worse than just not having a wand, Unc'. There's some magic in Eternia, but not as much as here. People don't use it as much, though they used it more in the past. But it's _different_. Completely different than anything Trollans ever tried to work with. It… It…"

How to explain? How to explain the difference between the familiar magic that even a _child_ could use and the rebelliously-wild magic that always tried to escape his control? How to explain it to his uncle, who lived his whole life on Trolla and always dealt with the more cooperative magic? How to explain to his friends, who didn't even have any experience wielding magic that wasn't tied to an object or location like Castle Grayskull?

The last time he tried to explain the strange differences between the two kinds of magic was years ago, the evening immediately after arriving on Eternia. Confused, overwhelmed, and uncertain what to make of the weird-looking people and the large palace he was given shelter in, Orko tried talking to a young Prince Adam, saying the magic felt wrong. The child, still carrying around the skittish kitten he'd dragged home alongside the lost sorcerer, tried to understand and cheer him up. But there was only so much the young prince could comprehend and only so much Orko could focus on explaining that evening.

So how could he explain this? How could he make sure that all three members of his audience understood this time?

"Okay, magic on Trolla is like rocks. Sturdy. Abundant. Reliable. You can pick up a rock and throw it where you want. You can build walls or buildings with it. You can shape it with tools to make the rock fit whatever purpose you need it for, making it even better than before. If you need a lot, you can pick a bigger rock. And if you really know what you're doing, you can get the ores from the rock, concentrate and purify it, and have metal to work with instead. And that'll make your project stronger, sharper, tougher, and better, but you won't need nearly as much."

He saw Adam and Man-At-Arms nod in understanding so far. The metaphor was working. With all the stone walls, castles, and statues back on Eternia and all the metal machinery and weapons that Man-At-Arms worked with regularly, it should be a familiar idea. It was something they could visualize and comprehend. It would help them understand how reliable magic was meant to be and how prevalent its usage was for Trollans.

"Magic on Eternia, in comparison, is more like… water. It's unpredictable. If you try to hold or use it, it'll slip through your hands. Water will change on you. Sometimes it's a solid that you can work with like normal, but it won't stay that way. It'll quickly melt into a liquid that is harder to use or a gas that you can't even really touch. Sometimes it's a dribble, but other times it becomes a flood you can't contain. My wand would have helped control it, but there's only so much I can do without a focus. Anything other than the simplest and smallest spells could either end up too weak or strong enough to break free from my control. You can't predict which ones will work and which will fail horribly." Orko shook his head and said, "Using and controlling magic at all some days is a miracle. Well, a miracle and a lot of practice over the last few years of trying to work with something that I can barely use. Sorry to tell you this, Unc', but I've spent the last eight years failing to use spells I perfected as a _child_. So much for a prodigy, huh?"

He felt himself relax a little as he finished his explanation. In a way, it felt nice to put his frustrations with Eternian magic into words. It made him feel a little better even as he admitted to Uncle Montork how far he'd fallen from the days of being Orko the Great. And while he wasn't exactly comfortable with the hints of pity that accompanied the looks of comprehension on his friends' faces, at least they understood what he was talking about. They could understand what he meant about the magics being too different. And they would realize why he was so excited to finally be somewhere the magic worked right.

"There were theories," said Uncle Montork quietly. "Theories that magic from other worlds would be fundamentally different than on Trolla, that each world with magic would be unique and distinct from each other. It would not work the same. It would not behave or react the same as our magic. And one of the theories is that it would resist usage by non-native sorcerers. Of course, it was assumed that anyone unlucky enough to find themselves in such a situation could compensate for the differences with their wand. And the entire thing was only a theory. No one ever proved that magic on other worlds would be different and hostile to outsiders."

"Well, I can certainly confirm it now."

Orko briefly considered directing him to examine Adam's sword if he wanted to study a more practical example of how different the magics were between the two worlds. Keeping the secret of who He-Man truly was probably didn't matter when it came to his uncle. Uncle Montork didn't know about He-Man, Skeletor, or any of them. And most of the power that transformed and strengthened He-Man was back in Castle Grayskull on Eternia.

The spells on the sword were subtler and less flashy, so subtle that you would miss them unless you knew to look for them. Spells to make the sword shorter and lighter while disguised. Spells to make it easier to overlook or forget about its presence on the prince's back. And spells to increase to summon the immense power from Castle Grayskull. The spells weren't dissolved by crossing to a different world (otherwise Orko would have been stuck trying to replace the storage pocket spell and the concealing-shadow spell on his hat when he landed in Eternia in the first place), so it would be easy for Uncle Montork to examine the spells on the sword.

But as soon as Orko considered the idea, he rejected it. Even if the secret wasn't as important on Trolla, it was Adam's secret. Orko no longer felt the urge to impulsively tell share the shocking news about He-Man's identity, even to someone he trusted as much as his uncle. Besides, even if Adam and Man-At-Arms didn't mind, the Sorceress wouldn't be happy if she ever found out.

"So with no wand to help you control magic that is completely different from that on Trolla and resistant to your usage, you spent eight years on that world. And you continued to act as a sorcerer during that time. Am I correct?" asked Uncle Montork.

"Well, sorcerer and… Court Jester. Simple spells are easier to make work right and those are useful at making people laugh," he admitted. "With how everything is in Eternia, that's what I'm pretty good at."

Not to mention he rather _liked_ his job by now. It was fun. Orko enjoyed entertaining everyone. He liked cheering people up and making them laugh on purpose. And he'd realized already that his position was more valuable than people might guess. Yes, it would be nice sometimes to have a little more respect and to have more dependable magic to actually _help_ people with, but he generally didn't mind being the Court Jester for the royal family back on Eternia. It just didn't sound as impressive when he mentioned it to his uncle. It made him sound like he was a failure even if Orko didn't feel that way about his job. And he didn't want Uncle Montork to think of him as a failure.

"Even with everything to hinder you, you still did magic. You did not simply give up, my boy. Alone somewhere far away from everything you knew and facing challenges I can scarcely imagine, you kept going. You continued to _try_."

Orko blinked in confusion at his words and said, "How could I not? And I wasn't alone." He gestured towards his friends, who were looking more and more uncertain of their place in this family discussion. "They were there to help me. And even when my magic messed up, I did my best to help them back."

"And that, my dear nephew, is why I'm so proud of you."

He wasn't exactly certain he understood what his uncle meant and some of his confusion must have been clear since Uncle Montork chuckled slightly, shook his head, and patted Orko's shoulder. Well, as long as Uncle Montork wasn't disappointed in him and he hadn't embarrassed his only remaining family, Orko didn't plan to complain.

Taking a step forward, Adam said, "So now that you're back on Trolla, your magic should be easier and reliable. Even without your wand?"

Orko smiled as he glanced up at the light green sky, an idea forming. He wouldn't risk what he was considering back on Eternia. It was too large and potentially dangerous if he lost control. But here? He knew he could do it even without his wand. And it would be _fun_.

Keeping his voice down to conceal the surprise, he muttered a spell and started directing his power upwards. Dark clouds began to form, the magic responding almost eagerly to his commands. The wind picked up and rustled the blue leaves on the surrounding plants. It looked like a storm was brewing. But it didn't rain. There was no flash of lightning or crackle of thunder. Orko's control was too firm for that to happen, the power easily obeying his intentions. It almost felt easier to control so much magic at once than he remembered. Maybe even easier than it did the last time he tried using this spell, years ago _and_ with his wand. That was probably just his imagination though.

The rainbow that formed as the roiling clouds began to settle didn't look like the ones that appeared on Eternia. Those brightly-colored arches would start low, stretch up, and then fall back down towards the ground. This one started in the clouds before swooping down and swinging back up. This one was like the rainbows that Orko grew up with. But even with their differences, being mirror images of each other, rainbows were beautiful on both worlds. They were also seen as signs of good things to come in the future, a patch of color and peace that appeared after stormy weather.

Giving his creation one last look of satisfaction, Orko turned back towards his friends. Adam and Man-At-Arms stared at the most impressive piece of successful magic they'd ever seen him perform. They looked a little stunned at the sight. That could certainly boost a person's confidence. It was so wonderful to have his magic work again.

"Does _that_ answer your question?" asked Orko proudly.

* * *

Montork's constructed portal was built in a clearing, away from their homes and businesses. That meant they would need to follow the path through the forest to get back to civilization. And the only reason there was a clear path at ground level was from bringing the stones to the site and widening the trail the wild animals used. It was lucky for Orko's friends that they'd done that since the large beings seemed to be stuck on the ground.

They were certainly strange-looking people. They were tall giants compared to Trollans, their complexions an unusual pinkish-tan shade that didn't seem healthy. Their clothes didn't look like anything worn on Trolla. The younger one at least wore a few pieces of fabric, but the clothing clung closer to his body than robes ever did. And the older one was wrapped in protective metal on the outside, anything more comfortable-looking hidden beneath. And then there was the fact neither of them covered their faces. No scarves, no concealing-shadow spells, and no discomfort at everyone seeing their faces. Eternians must not have the same standards as Trollans. But it just seemed so odd for an intelligent, civilized, and rational species to go around half-naked like that.

The newcomers stared at the trees curiously as Montork mentally went over the list of tasks he would need to deal with soon. The first thing he should address would be Orko's lack of wand. Saro did impressive and fast work generally, so it shouldn't take the experienced wand crafter long to prepare one if asked. And Montork might be able to talk him into moving the order to the front of the line rather than waiting for him to catch up. After eight years without a wand, Orko already waited long enough.

Though it didn't seem to hinder him much not to have a wand. A focus like a wand helped with control, allowing someone to summon and manage larger amounts of magic than they could naturally. Out of the main four requirements for wielding magic, control was the most difficult to master and why almost everyone needed a wand. Wands helped focus their power in a controlled fashion. But everyone learned at least some capacity to use magic without a wand. It was an annoying exercise that no apprentice enjoyed, but it helped reiterate the importance and developed their overall control. The more focus and control they naturally gained, the more control they would have with a wand.

But Orko's current control of magic without a wand went beyond what his uncle ever expected. He'd paid close attention to his brief weather demonstration. His spells so far matched or even exceeded what Montork remembered about his nephew's control over magic. His boy was a prodigy even back then, achieving full mastery at a very young age. And that was _with_ a wand.

Eight years with no wand and handling hostile magic clearly forced Orko to work on his control by necessity, making him practice continuously in order to achieve even the smallest spells. That would be the most intense and unpleasant training possible and the results were now obvious to Montork. Those constant trials made his abilities better than before. Montork couldn't even imagine how powerful Orko would seem once he possessed a wand again.

Another important task he needed to deal with would be taking care of his houseguests. As long as Orko's friends were stuck on Trolla, Montork would take responsibility for their presence and let them stay in his home. But that would take a little work. They were taller than any Trollan, so the house wasn't built for their proportions. And what about their food? Orko didn't starve to death, so Trollans could eat at least some food on Eternia. But would the Eternians be able to eat the kinds of food that Montork kept at home? Would Orko know which foods would be good for his friends? It was something to keep in mind.

Then he abruptly remembered what time it was and Montork silently scolded himself. He'd spent more time than he expected setting up and activating the portal. Now he would be late for the lessons planned for the afternoon. The young apprentices would show up before he made it back. He'd been too distracted by his nephew's return to remember sooner. All he could do was hope that the children would be smart enough to practice their previous lessons and exercises without needing supervision. A couple might push things by experimenting with more advanced spells, but he was much better at hiding his spell books than when Orko was a child.

Brushing that issue aside for the moment, Montork glanced back towards his companions again. Orko flew relatively low the entire time, floating at a nearly-constant height. If everyone on Eternia was grounded, perhaps his nephew picked up the habit of staying at a convenient height to interact with them. The younger one with blond hair, the one that Orko identified as Prince Adam, seemed to be staring at everything with a certain amount of wonder. The optimism of youth and his general curiosity made him seem friendlier than Montork would have expected from someone who apparently held a position of power in his world. Man-At-Arms, whether that was meant to be his name or title, also studied his surroundings closely. But he seemed more cynical and suspicious. He was watching for danger.

Neither the prince nor his older companion seemed to know much about using magic, at least from what Montork gathered from his nephew's remarks and how he framed his explanations. They didn't notice the difference in magic between the two worlds because they did not use magic. Was that the norm for Eternia? Just how common or rare were sorcerers in their world? Or even more basic magic-users? How wide-spread was the ignorance about the challenges of using magic? They only now seemed to be grasping the true nature and extent of Orko's difficulties and some of Man-At-Arms' earlier comments bothered Montork. He would be watching the mustached one closely.

But Orko called them friends and they seemed to care about him. Even the mildly-concerning Man-At-Arms with his remarks about Orko's abilities demonstrated subtle hints that he cared. As he watched the forest for possible threats, he kept an equally protective eye on the Trollan as he did the prince. So Montork would give them the benefit of the doubt for now and trust his nephew's judgment.

But if they did anything to harm his boy, he would trap them in the ground up to their necks and leave them there overnight.

"Hey, are those ripe kelpa berries?" asked Orko abruptly, his eyes locked upwards.

Montork only needed a brief look to spot the dark green berries in the high treetops. He remembered how much his nephew loved the sweet and tangy snack as a child. He could be bribed into any chores or good behavior with just a handful. Montork also remembered needing more and more powerful spells to keep the boy out of the cabinet he stored the berries in. Then there was the time he tried to fight a hungry reenak for the last crop of the season, ending up with several scratches on his hands and ears in the process. The memories of the proud child snacking on the berries while his uncle cleaned up the purple blood shed in "battle" still made Montork smile.

"I can't even remember the last time I had kelpa berries," continued Orko, still staring longingly at his favorite treat. "Not to mention that make some of the _best_ pies."

Shaking his head ruefully, Montork said, "Go ahead and pick some. I'll keep an eye on your friends on the way back. Just don't eat them all and forget to bring some back for the rest of us."

"Really?" he asked, perking up.

"Sure, Orko," said Prince Adam. "We'll be fine. Have fun."

The young Trollan needed no further prompting. He launched himself upwards, aiming towards the closest clump of ripe berries.

 **I ran into some internet trouble recently, so it took a little bit to post this after I typed it up. But the issue didn't take too long to sort out. Most of the trouble was during the time period where I was actually typing, so you wouldn't even notice much of a difference in posting time.**

 **Remember, writers always enjoy reviews. And even if it might take me some time to update this story, I appreciate feedback. Thanks.**


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